


Centripetal Force

by mechakucharumba



Category: Pokemon, Pokemon Black and White
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:59:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechakucharumba/pseuds/mechakucharumba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wonders if N ever looked for him in places he’d never be, grabbing a shoulder and abruptly turning away, leaving behind a bewildered boy who, in the right light, could look enough like him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Centripetal Force

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I should give the Blair=Hilbert=Touya in terms of canon-ness disclaimer on a new site, just in case. ;;

Blair picks the ride this time, something more to his tastes, something that gets the adrenaline pumping. It’s the kind that gets all the teenagers at fairs in line, two carriages for standing in as they spin around each other on a set orbit, only a little chain keeping you from falling out.

“It’s safe, by the way,” Blair says as the attendant shuts the door and starts up the machine.

“That follows,” N responds as both of them are pushed flat against the cushioned backs of their own little cells. “It’s centripetal force.”

Blair knows the general concept of what N is saying, and the general concept is enough for him, having slept through physics and remained blissfully unaware of how radians are used to calculate one’s position on a Ferris wheel. So, unbidden, “Determined by the mass of an object, multiplied by its velocity squared and then divided by the radius of curvature,” the machine begins to bob and sway, each carriage see-sawing, completely autonomous from the other. Blair does not respond beyond the cursory nod, even that an effort due to the mass of an object, multiplied by its velocity squared and divided by the radius of something. 

Across from them, a bevy of squealing girls attempt to stick their legs out, shrieking either in amusement or dismay when they fail, and “Even an amusement park ride such as this one generates more than enough centripetal force to keep us firmly against the exterior wall.” Next to them, a couple Blair’s age holds hands, their faces turned towards one another, noses touching. Blair wonders if this is centripetal force, too, holding their heads down as it holds his straight forward, his vision of N limited to the stray strands of hair that blow against his cheek and, less dramatically, under his nose. On an impulse, he tries to lift his hand; it’s hard, harder than he remembers it, riding this thing with Whitlea as a little kid and having contests to see who could hold up their hand the longest. It reminds him more, waxing sentimental, of thin autumn air parting on Reshiram’s back, nights rubbing his skin raw. He wonders if N ever looked for him in places he’d never be, grabbing a shoulder and abruptly turning away, leaving behind a bewildered boy who, in the right light, could look enough like him. 

Inattentive, his hand comes down smack on N’s face, centripetal force keeping it grounded, awkward and distinctly stupid-feeling, until the ride comes to a stop.

“You hit me in the face,” N observes, not for the first time.

“I was aiming for your hand,” Blair mutters peevishly to the sound of N’s chuckle, having less violent designs upon N’s person than he maybe did before. 

  
They end up on the Ferris wheel again anyways, pressed together now entirely by choice and unwittingly garnering stares.


End file.
